


Happily, I'm Unfazed Here, Too

by california_italian



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Inspired by a Hozier Song, M/M, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Top Steve Rogers, aloe vera as a post apocalyptic substitute for lube, support the green new deal folks, the apocalypse in this case being climate change, vague mentions of angie martinelli/peggy carter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 01:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/california_italian/pseuds/california_italian
Summary: The loss of the pillow is, in fact, what Steve is pretty sure Bucky is so pissed off about.





	Happily, I'm Unfazed Here, Too

_Be still, my indelible friend, you are unbreaking_  
_Though quaking, though crazy_  
 _That’s just wasteland, baby_

 

 

Steve doesn’t know how long they’ve been walking. They’d broken camp just before the sun started rising and had continued walking through the baking heat that beat down on the dry, cracked plain of what used to be Michigan maybe. They hadn’t come across anyone else since the start of the day, which was reassuring because encounters with other people were tense at best and deadly at worst. On the other hand, no people also usually meant no shelter nearby, and while the heat could be dangerous if you lacked water and proper cover, the nights were deadly cold.

They probably could’ve braved the cold pressed together in their tent had said tent not been stolen that morning in what Bucky had caustically called one of their better encounters with other wanderers.

Other than the few times Steve tried to make conversation and Bucky’s pissed off, waspish replies, they had mostly passed the day in tense silence. To his credit, Bucky wasn’t being an asshole just for the hell of it; Steve was supposed to go on watch an hour prior to them being robbed but had decided that a few more minutes pressed against Bucky’s back wouldn’t kill them. He had technically been right, but yesterday’s long trek had caught up with him and had pulled him back to sleep without his knowledge. For an hour.

Then the bandits.

Honestly, as Steve tried to explain before being cut short by Bucky’s sharp glare, it could’ve been worse. They’re lucky the bandits don’t ask to see what’s in the pair’s bags. Aloe harvesting and trading isn’t exactly a glamorous job—mostly just wandering around the desert that used to be middle America filling old water bottles with the clear gel—but it’s lucrative as hell. Money’s useless now but aloe’s got a ton of relevant uses—burn gel, antibacterial, teeth cleaner, lube, etc. The bandits, weighed down by a truly exorbitant amount of (presumably stolen) gear, had only deigned to take their tent and their one pillow.

The loss of the pillow is, in fact, what Steve is pretty sure Bucky is so pissed off about. It’s how they met, actually. In the husk of what was once Dallas, they had both entered into a fighting tournament that Steve personally thought was barbaric—but he’s also living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, so he doesn’t have the luxury of being choosy—with the pillow as the grand prize. They end up fighting each other in the final round. It goes on for so long that Steve’s childhood asthma ends up catching up to him and gives the long-haired stranger who fights like it’s a dance the foothold to overtake him.

Later, when he’s breathing heavily into a paper bag in the building’s backroom, the pillow lands next to him on the rusting bench and the body of its new owner soon follows. Steve acknowledges him with a nod and prepares to ignore the gloating that’s sure to come. He’s not in the mood for that no matter how beautiful the face and the accompanying body attached to it is.

Understandably it’s hard for Steve to keep the shock off his face when the stranger says, “I’m thinking of heading north along the old Mississippi route; I could really use a travelling partner if you’re willing.”

“Where?”

“Old Canada maybe, maybe not. Heard they’ve got shit like oak trees up there.” Steve snorts in disbelief, and the man shrugs. “You got anything else going on?”

He doesn’t. The last commitment he had was Peggy who had seen him off with a sad smile and one final kiss. According to the news from the most recent caravan to pass through Denver, she and the diner owner who had housed them all those years ago had just celebrated their fourth anniversary—Steve cried at the news, and he’d been pleased to find that they were happy tears. He doesn’t tell Bucky this until a few months into their travel, so at the time, he just answers, “When do you want to leave?”

The answering grin is enough to make Steve feel good about his decision.

“Gathering supplies should only take a week or so.” The man leans closer to him and mirth sparkles in his eyes, “You might wanna work on growing a beard. Gotta protect that pretty face of yours.”

Steve blushes as fingertips drag tenderly across his jawline, and he gets a low laugh in return. That moment ends up being a frequent companion whenever he’s got some semblance of privacy until he kisses Bucky a year later and fucks him in the loft of some abandoned barn.

There is no such tenderness and mirth coming from his companion now, even when they come across a cluster of lean-tos that they can take shelter in as the sun starts to dip below the horizon. There is no words or laughter or kissing as they set up their bedrolls and wedge their bodies into the corner of one of the cramped shacks. Weighted silence is the only thing that hangs in the air between them until Steve finally breaks it, “Sweetheart, I’m sor- “

“Shut the fuck up, Steve,” Bucky hisses back. Steve can feel the brunet’s shoulders and back tense against his chest. “I’m so fucking mad at you right now, and I just want to be pissed off for a whole day before you start apologizing with your kicked puppy eyes. That pillow was the one good thing I had in my life, and I think I’m allowed to mourn it for twenty-four hours, ok?”

Steve responds with a subdued, “ok.”

Bucky doesn’t speak again and neither does Steve, and though the former falls asleep rather quickly, it takes a while for the sting of Bucky’s words to dissipate enough for Steve to follow him.

\--

The next day is just as quiet, but anger isn’t rolling off of Bucky in waves anymore. So mostly it’s because Steve feels bad and he’s hurt that Bucky called the pillow the one good thing in his life, but he thinks that’s probably selfish, so he feels bad about that too.

They come across a town sometime just after noon. Where they are now used to be at the bottom of a lake, so the place is just appropriately known as Laketown, or so the woman at the inn they get a room at tells them. She also tells them that there’s still a running stream around here that’s deep enough to bathe in which Bucky decides is the only thing he cares about in that moment.

After dropping their things in their room, Steve tells Bucky he’s going to look around the town for any supplies they need to stock up on and go to the stream after. It’s the complete truth, although Steve does leave out what specifically he is looking for. To his surprise, he finds it rather quickly. Someone in the town had recently died while trying to rob one of his neighbors, so Steve trades two old plastic water bottle full of aloe gel for his pillow. It’s grim, but there isn’t a ton of room for that kind of sentiment these days. He also finds a woman who makes her own soap that he trades a quarter of a bottle of aloe for a bar. By the time he makes it to the stream, he’s disappointed to find that Bucky is no longer there, so he makes quick work of washing himself and the clothes he’s been wearing for approximately a week. He dresses in a change of clothes he brought with him and trudges tiredly back to the inn to find Bucky sprawled face down on the narrow bed.

Steve tries to be quiet as he hangs his wet clothes up to dry, but a muffled ‘hey’ tells him he’s been unsuccessful. Steve can hear shifting from the bed and feels Bucky’s eyes follow him as he puts his stuff away.

“Stevie?” Bucky asks, still somewhat sleepily.

“Hmm?”

“Is that a pillow?” Steve turns around to find Bucky leaning up on an elbow and the corners of his mouth turned up. “Did you buy me a pillow?”

Steve can feel himself blushing. “I- well, yeah.”

Bucky motions for him to bring it over to the bed; Steve complies and sits on the edge.

“I just figured.” Steve bites his lip and continues rather sheepishly, “well, you said it was the only good thing in your life, you know?”

Bucky looks at him with surprise. “Is that what that face has been about all day?”

“What face?”

Bucky pushes himself up to a sitting position and the soft smile he sometimes wears for Steve appears. “Doll, you’ve got a pretty face, but you’re shit at keeping your feelings off of it.” When Steve doesn’t say anything, Bucky pushes his shoulder against his. “I wasn’t including you when I said that. You know that, right? That pillow was good, but you, by far, are the best thing in my life. And besides, even if we didn’t have an actual pillow, you come with two built in.

Bucky pushes his finger into one of Steve’s pecs, and the blond grabs his hand to pull him closer so he can press his laugh against Bucky’s mouth.

“That why you keep me around?”

“Keep you around cause I’m in love with you, punk.”

Steve drops Bucky’s hand to take his face between both of his and pull him back far enough to look him in the eye. “Love you too, jerk. Also, I _am_ really sorry about the pillow.”

Bucky waves his hand in a way that officially declares the pillow as part of the past and leans back in to keep kissing the blond. Steve quickly licks his way into Bucky’s mouth and takes his hands off his face to use them to position Bucky’s thighs over his own.

Steve moves his mouth down to Bucky’s neck where he’ll probably leave a few love bites like the punk he is.

“You’re a real fast mover there, pal.”

Bucky can feel the curve of Steve’s smile against his throat. “I know when to draw it out real slow, sweetheart, don’t you worry.”

“Speaking of.”

Steve pulls back again and efficiently tells him, “I only traded two and a quarter of the regular sized bottles. We’ve still got everything in your pack, three-quarters of a regular bottle and the big liter in mine,” before reattaching his mouth to Bucky’s neck.

He sighs at the sensation but asks, “are you going to grab some, or you just felt like taking an inventory break?” Bucky ends up on his back with Steve’s mouth back on his and the blonde’s hips cradled between his thighs.

“And you called me a fast mover.” Steve’s teeth scrape over his earlobe, eliciting a gasp out of him.

“Pardon me for trying to be prepared.” Bucky plants a foot on the worn-down mattress, wraps the other leg around Steve’s waist, and grinds up against him, drawing out a similar reaction.

Steve gets his hands up under Bucky’s shirt and makes quick work of getting it off of him. He wastes no time in peppering kisses down Bucky’s sternum, and when he gets to the base of it, he looks up through his long, golden eyelashes. “Just trying to show my best guy a proper apology. Gotta take it slow.”

“Well then, by all means.”

Steve’s smile is a mix of something very tender and dirty, and Bucky takes what’s surely his last moment of coherence for at least a few hours to grab the pillow and slip it under his head. Steve’s smile moves more towards tender which he immediately undercuts by flicking his tongue over a nipple, an action he keeps repeating for the next few minutes.

When Steve decides to move on, he shimmies a bit, so he’s laying directly on top of Bucky; his fingers dig in to the brunet’s hips and his stomach presses against his erection. His hold on his hips have the benefit of dragging a whine from Bucky when he tries to grind up again and is pressed firmly into the mattress instead.

Steve starts pressing chaste kisses across Bucky’s abdomen. He dips a tongue quickly into his bellybutton, and gets a “you’re such a fucking tease, Rogers” in return. And because he is, in fact, a fucking tease, he starts ghosting his lips across the sensitive skin near the V of Bucky’s hips, eliciting a noise that’s caught between a gasp and a giggle as he tries to squirm away.

Bucky releases his white-knuckled hold on the old metal bedframe and hooks it into Steve’s hair. Steve has the audacity to look up at him innocently and ask, “you need something, baby?”

Bucky frowns down at him and slides a leg under Steve’s body so he can press the top of his foot to his hard-on. Bucky grins in triumph when he involuntarily grinds against him and breathes out a swear against his stomach.

“Do _you_?”

Steve retaliates by placing a love bite against Bucky’s hip while getting the fly of his pants undone. He makes short work of pulling his pants and boxer briefs off, and for all the blonde’s talk about _patience_ and _taking his time_ his mouth is on Bucky’s cock in record time—not that Bucky is really in a state to say anything about it.

The only sounds that make it out of Bucky’s mouth for the next couple of minutes are groans, gasps, and a few variations on Steve’s name and some four letter expletives. Bucky doesn’t know if maybe Steve is just exceptionally talented at giving head in general or he just knows what Bucky likes, but he’s in no position to complain as Steve drags his lips over his hard length, flicks his tongue against the crease at the tip, cradles his balls in his large, warm hands, and reaches down with his long middle finger to trace around his anus.

He’s lucky that Steve recognizes his tells—the tightened grip in his hair, tensing thighs, and his balls tightening up towards his body—or else he’d be coming down his throat five minutes into this whole affair. That scenario in itself isn’t exactly a bad one, but Bucky and Steve haven’t fucked in a real bed in at least two months, so he will not be wasting this opportunity.

Steve gets his mouth off of him with a pop just before Bucky’s sure it’ll be too much and sits back on his haunches. Bucky feels extremely vulnerable—though not in a bad way—he’s laid out completely bare under Steve’s gaze with his legs spread to accommodate him, meanwhile, Steve hasn’t removed a single stitch of clothing. They’re both breathing hard and Steve is staring at him with dark, hooded eyes while rubbing his hands softly up and down Bucky’s thighs. Bucky is staring down at where he’s hard and leaking against his stomach then to where he can clearly see the outline of Steve’s equally hard cock through his worn jeans.

Bucky pushes himself up to sit and runs his hand up the inside of Steve’s clothed thigh until he’s tenderly stroking him through the fabric. “You gonna sit there and stare at me all day, or you gonna do something about this.” He squeezes and Steve’s eyelids flutter closed as he lets out a choked groan.

“ _Buck_ ”

He grins and leans up to meet Steve for a kiss that’s far more tender than the situation calls for, and they both work together to get his shirt up over his head. Bucky returns to kissing him, although, this time much more urgently. He hooks a finger into one of Steve’s belt loops and tugs while pressing “get these off” into the other man’s mouth.

Steve practically vaults himself off the bed and almost lands on his face for all the rush. He had told Bucky about growing up as a small and sickly kid until he finally grew out—literally—of a lot of his illnesses in his late teens and early twenties. Bucky can’t really tell for the most part, but occasionally, Steve will do something that’s clearly meant for a much smaller body. Bucky finds it hopelessly endearing. It must show on his face because Steve returns from a detour of grabbing a bottle of aloe from the closest bag and flashes him a lopsided grin; coupled with his mussed-up hair, he looks almost boyish.

“Stop lookin’ at me all lovesick. Gonna make me blush.”

“I _am_ lovesick, and you’d blush anyway.”

Steve doesn’t argue, just clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes fondly before setting the bottle on the floor and removing his remaining clothes. Bucky curls his hand around the inside of Steve’s knee to pull him closer and press a kiss to the spot where his hip meets his thigh. Steve’s fingers thread into his hair and turn his face up to meet his searching eyes.

“How do you...?”

“Wanna look at you. Wanna kiss you.”

It’s clearly what Steve wants too because Bucky sees his own lovesickness mirrored back at him. It’s not that any other way isn’t great, but their sleeping quarters are usually much more cramped and taking their time is not a luxury they are often afforded so this is somewhat of a special occasion.

Bucky pulls Steve back onto the bed and maneuvers him between his legs again. Steve uses his body weight to get Bucky flat on his back; their mattress is hard and thin but his head is pillowed by, well, his pillow, and Bucky smiles at the reminder as he presses a kiss between the notches of Steve’s clavicles.

Steve manages to grab the bottle of aloe with minimal readjusting, which is fortunate because one of Bucky’s arms is locked pretty solidly around his waist. He gets the clear gel smeared across his fingers before gingerly recapping the bottle; he resettles and has his mouth on Bucky’s while his slicked up middle finger circles his anus again. Bucky knows Steve’s next move extremely well, but it always manages to catch him unaware. Steve licks into his mouth quick and dirty while sliding his finger into Bucky slowly and rips a moan out from deep within the brunet’s chest.

Bucky reaches between them; there isn’t enough room for him to be able to get his hand around Steve’s cock so he just traps it between his stomach and the palm of his hand so Steve can thrust while he fingers Bucky open.

Steve takes his time working his fingers into the other man; makes sure he’s sufficiently loose before inserting another. By the third finger, they’re no longer kissing. Steve is panting too hard as he makes little thrusting movements between Bucky’s hand and stomach, and Bucky keeps groaning every time Steve drags his fingertips over his prostate.

“You good?” Steve asks breathlessly.

Bucky nods to forgo speaking and abandons his task to squeeze some aloe into the palm of his hand. Steve removes his fingers—Bucky _does not_ whine at that—and moves back a little so the other man can slick him up—similarly, Steve _does not_ whine at a that.

When Bucky keeps going, Steve’s eyes flutter shut and he manages to slur out, “’S too much, sweetheart.”

The hand stills, and he feels Bucky readjust so that the tip is pressed against his loosened ring of muscles. Steve takes the hint and pushes in slowly while Bucky’s body goes taut like a guitar string. When Steve’s fully seated inside him, they both go still and breathe heavily while they refamiliarize themselves to the overwhelming sensation.

Steve’s waiting for Bucky to give him the go ahead, but instead of saying it out loud like a normal person might, he gives it by tightening around Steve and flashing him a wicked grin when the blonde’s eyes fly open.

“Who’s the tease now, Barnes?”

“Still you.”

Steve hums thoughtfully, pulls out slowly, then pushes back in harder and faster than he normally would. His reward is all the air and an ‘ _oh fuck_ ’ being punched from Bucky’s lungs. He decides to do it again and again. And again. And again.

Steve’s not unaffected by it and if Bucky’s bit lip and squeezed shut eyes are anything to go by, neither is he. When Steve starts thrusting at a normal pace, Bucky’s eyes open again and he slips his fingers between Steve’s, both still sticky from the aloe, with an enamored smile. It’s then that Steve realizes that he’s been letting out a steady stream of endearments.

Bucky’s not much of a talker once they get past the foreplay; he’ll answer direct questions, but he’s mostly content to let his vocabulary dwindle down to ‘ _fuck_ ’, ‘ _Stevie_ ’, ‘ _baby_ ’, and ‘ _doll_ ’. Steve, however, likes to take it upon himself to say everything: how good Bucky feels, how much he loves him, how pretty he is, etc. What he says usually depends on the mood. One of their desert quickies might be about how all day he’s wanted to push him down on all fours and take him until they’re both too fuck drunk to move, but this is mostly about how much he loves Bucky and how much he loves seeing him all open, warm, and soft just for him, only for him. Bucky usually won’t respond, but Steve knows he hears him always.

Something bright and sweet curls in Steve’s stomach the more the thinks and talks about how much he loves the man underneath him, and he angles his hips to thrust deeper. Bucky gasps at the new angle and moves Steve’s hand to wrap around the length of him. Steve gives him a perfunctory squeeze before beginning to jerk him off in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Fuck, baby, just like that.”

“Jesus, Buck. Feel so good. ‘M so close.”

“Me too, doll, just…” Bucky shifts his hips a little and moans when he finds what he’s looking for. “Just like that, Stevie.”

Steve thrusts against that spot four more times before Bucky starts contracting around him and pulsing in his hand. Bucky spills across his stomach in thick, white splashes as he shakes apart and Steve follows. He comes hard as Bucky twitches and squeezes around him.

His arm eventually gives out during the last of the aftershocks, and he drops his entire body weight on top of Bucky. Softening, Steve slides out of Bucky. He spares a thought for the cum pressed between their bodies and decides he can bathe again tomorrow. If Bucky cares, he doesn’t say anything, just cards his fingers through Steve’s honey colored hair for minutes, hours, days maybe.

Finally, quietly, he says, “I really like the pillow.”

Steve’s responding laugh is slow and thick and he turns his head so he can kiss Bucky in the same way. “Glad you like it.”

Bucky taps his shoulder a couple of times; Steve takes the hint and rolls off of him long enough for the brunet to turn onto his side and wait for Steve to settle in behind him.

It’s quiet for a few minutes and when Bucky speaks again, it’s from the edges of consciousness. “Love it. Love you.”

Steve’s voice is equally thick with sleep, “Love you.”

 

 

_Wasteland, baby  
I’m in love, I’m in love with you_

**Author's Note:**

> Some answers to questions you may have:
> 
> -Steve and Bucky have been traveling together for three years, romantically involved for two
> 
> -They do make it to Canada in the first 6 months, but they get bored and become aloe traders because why not?
> 
> -Aloe is actually a decent lube substitute, you just have to make sure there's no additives. I wouldn't recommend it as a first resort but presumably it will make do for the apocalypse.
> 
> -Wasteland, Baby is the best song on a perfect album, and yes it is streaming on Spotify and Apple Music.
> 
> -Don't be afraid to send any other questions my way if you've got em. I'm happy to answer.


End file.
